I don't get paid enough for this
by prosto666
Summary: Max and her flock weren't the first successful recombinant avian mutants. The School made sure this secret was locked away and buried deep, but when Max disappears and a new threat surfaces, Jeb takes it upon himself to bring to light the original genetic wonders to save our favorite ragtag group of bird-kids, and the world. He didn't expect his new heroes to be so...uncooperative.
1. Prolouge

**_So this has been sitting on my computer for awhile, its been a concept for a couple years now and I thought I'd finally give it a chance. Its actually based off a dream I had haha. I've been a maximum ride fan for years now. It follows the timeline up until final warning, from Max to Nevermore, none of it happened, so its sort of my own timeline. I don't own the story, just my own OCs. Any who, enjoy!_**

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><p><strong><em>Prologue<em>**

**_Gone_**

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_Fang,_

_Hey, if you're reading this, then I'm probably dead, or about to be. Before you freak out, it's probably-hopefully-the latter. C'mon, this is me we're talking about. We all know how hard it is to kill me. Ok, this probably isn't making you feel any better. Focus, Max. I don't have a lot of time. You need to do exactly what I say, I know that may be hard, but its important, like SUPER important. My life, and the lives of everyone on the planet is at stake here Fang. Everything you need to know is in this packet, but its still not nearly enough. I know I'm not making any sense, what else is new, right? Oh God, I'm really in trouble Fang, deep shit actually, and you will never hear me say this again, got it? Ugggh, I reaaaaaaaallllly hate saying this, but... I need your help Fang. You're the only one who can save me-yes its me who needs the saving this time,stuff it- Find the Maverick, they're the key to all of this, find them and __STOP __them. Do __WHATEVER __it takes. Don't screw this up rocks for brains, I'm counting on you, and take care of the others for me, ok?...please, Fang, save me._

_-Max_

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Gingerly, like handling a ticking bomb, Fang set the piece of paper back on the bed where he found it and took a giant step back. His heart had just about stopped after _'probably dead' _and now it was lodged rather snugly in his throat.

He couldn't remember the last time Max had voluntarily admitted defeat, or sounded so openly scared and desperate_, _not to mention resorting to actual _begging_, and it made _him _afraid. Terrified even. He found his hands trembling and a cold sweat had formed on his forehead. The room spun a little, someone had dumped a bucket of ice water down his back and it was getting harder to breathe. He fought off the barrage of questions in his head-_how long had she been gone, had someone taken her, could /should he go after her-_that threatened to overwhelm him and quickly forced down the frantic hysteria crawling up his esophagus.

Fang rule number one; always keep your cool.

He was definitely _not_ expecting this when he came upstairs to see why Max hadn't come down for breakfast or lunch. And at this point in his life he could pride himself on being a master of the unexpected.

The rest of the room was untouched, no sign of a struggle, no other clues, no useful or tangible evidence of Max's disappearance. Nothing. It was like she had just vanished into thin air. Hell, maybe she did, it certainly wouldn't be the first time he had woken up to a mysteriously missing Max. Now that he thought about it, it happened _way _too often. He took another step, forward this time-legs suddenly useless noodles- and slumped ungracefully onto Max's unmade bed.

_'Breathe, Fang.'_

He hung his head-eyes twisted shut-cradled it in his hands, and clenched his fingers in his black mop of hair.

'_Breathe_.'

Something crinkled beneath him. He grunted, an irritated sigh that didn't quite make it past his tonsils, reached under and felt paper. Pulling it out, he inspected the manila envelope in his hands with narrowed eyes. He swallowed thickly, glanced to the door, quickly debating if he should share this with the rest of the flock, or keep it to himself for the moment. They had promised to never keep secrets from each other, after doing so had very nearly gotten them killed on _many _occasions, but the note was specifically addressed with his name and obviously meant for to _him_.

Which could have been a mistake on Max's part-he was actually impressed she automatically assumed he'd be the first one to find it-perhaps a lapse in judgment in the heat of the moment. She was supposedly dying-he clenched his fists, _no_, _not _dying-so maybe it sounded like a good idea at the time. Because let's be serious, was he honestly the best choice? Sure he was her boyfriend, she the love of his life, but he still couldn't figure out how to properly use the _DVR_. Why not Jeb or someone else important. Someone who could actually _do _something.

Her life, and everyone else's apparently, was in his hands and if he failed -his heart pounded, he swallowed thickly-maybe he was getting a little ahead of himself. He took a deep, shaky breath.

'_You're the only one who can save me.'_

His browed dipped, he glared pensively at the _seemingly _ordinary envelope-he distinctly remembered a bomb hidden in their pizza years back, and was instantly weary. The words CASE 89-M CLASSIFIED stared back at him in red ink. If inanimate objects could dare you...with stiff shoulders and a semi-guilty conscious ,he slid his fingers under the edge, smoothed back the flap and reached inside.

No explosions, he was still alive with all his limbs intact-so far so good.

He pulled the papers out and set them on his lap, glancing once more towards the door. This felt wrong, his hand was in the cookie jar and this was a pretty _huge _cookie, but he couldn't stop his curiosity.

The first few papers were scientific mumbo jumbo he'd look at more closely later, he set them aside. He continued flipping, when something caught his eye. Photos. Well, more like mug shots. The first one was of a girl, maybe eight or nine, with brown hair and hazel eyes. She was glaring definitely at whoever was behind the camera. A whole page of information-about her, he assumed- followed, but he skipped it and went to the next picture.

It was a boy this time, around the same age of the girl, dark curly hair and piercing blue eyes. Eyes that could put his black smoldering pits-Nudge's words, not his- to shame. He paused, something about this kid was familiar, like he _should _know him, but he shook the feeling off as nothing more than years of paranoia of everyone that wasn't the flock, and went to the next and last picture. This girl was younger than the other two, maybe five or six, with a shock of red hair, a scattering of freckles and green eyes. Unlike the others, she was smiling cheekily, teeth and dimples, at the camera.

For reasons unknown, his throat went dry, his pulse speed up.

He put the three photos side by side across his thighs like pieces of a puzzle. Pieces, of course, that didn't fit or make any sense. He was sort of at a loss at what to do next. Maybe if he just stared at them long enough, they'd give him all the answers.

He was nothing if not an optimist.

There was just something so familiar about these kids, like it was-right-in-front-of-his-face obvious, yet he knew for a _fact _he's never seen them before in his life. He was really starting to get a headache.

A sick feeling in the pit of his stomach-call it a hunch, his avian freak sixth sense, whatever-told him they were important, important enough to be in this top secret packet at least. Which was probably _very_, or Max wouldn't have included them. He scanned their faces again, memorizing every detail he could, tucked it all in the back of his mind for future reference.

He had learned the hard way that bad things happened when he ignored his gut feelings. It was sort of the equivalent of the voice in Max's head. And right now it was scissor kicking him in the intestines. He flopped backwards on the bed, a frustrated growl rumbled in his throat. He glared up at the ceiling.

But what did it all mean!?

Who-or what-the _Hell _is the Maverick? Did _they _take her?

He bit his lip, and despite his attempts at keeping it together, panic reared it's ugly head. He hadn't felt this useless in a _long _time. It brought back black, cold memories and left an unpleasant taste in his mouth

He had absolutely _no _idea what to do, where to start, and he was beginning to doubt if any of this crap she had left him would even _help_. What if it was too late, what if she was already-he didn't let himself finish that thought. He shoved it to the deepest, darkest corner of his mind and squeezed his eyes shut. Hot tears pricked behind his lids, he pounded a hand on the mattress in anger.

"Shit."

"Well hello to you too."

Fang jumped, and sat up so fast he scattered the papers and gave himself whiplash. Iggy stood in the doorway, still in his boxers and ACDC t-shirt-_his _ACDC t-shirt-one hand on the door knob and an amused smile on his face. Fang fumbled for words, but the rollercoaster of emotions in his head had him tongue tied. He glanced down to the mess of top secret documents, cursed himself for not hearing the door open, and was never so glad to have a blind flock member. Iggy cleared his throat, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe.

"I hate to interrupt whatever it is you two are-" He blinked, the rest of his sentence stopping short. There was a moment of silence, Iggy's smirk melted into a confused frown, he titled his head. Fang's heart sank like a submarine.

"Where's Max?" He asked. Fang swallowed the golf ball in his throat, not really sure what to say, because that was what he was in the process of trying to figure out. He had no idea _where _she was.

'_Please, Fang, save me.'_

He managed to choke out a word-a one syllable slap in the face.

"Gone."

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><p><strong>Well hope you guys liked it, please read and review! :)<strong>

**~Prosto**


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**Bright**

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><p>Connor Messer knew he was fired, it was just a matter of time now.<p>

So the real question was; how much damage could he do before they caught him? He was putting his career on the line, maybe even his life-it depended on who found him first-so doing anything half assed at this point wasn't an option. Commitment would only get him so far, he had to be quick and careful. His little distraction in the Genetics lab would buy him an hour or so, before everything is sorted and they figure out it was him, but hopefully by then it would be too late. He waited for the alarms and flashing red lights to attract his colleagues to the opposite end of the building, before venturing out into the hallways. They were empty, just as he had planned, but he didn't let this small victory distract him from the more important task at hand. He _couldn't _fail.

He made his way to Holding Room 5A ,quickened his pace when it came into sight when he turned the corner, swiped his badge over the keypad mounted on the wall and slipped inside as soon as the doors hissed open. He stood in the chrome threshold a moment, to let his eyes adjust to the dim light and catch his breath.

_Fifty minutes._

The far wall was lined with metal cages, ranging from painfully cramped to barely tolerable in size, stacked on top of each other in a careless, lopsided pyramid. Four solitary lamps hung from a flat gray ceiling, bathing everything around him in filmy yellow light. He adjusted his thin framed glasses, a nervous habit, clutched the set of files in his hands to his chest, and ventured closer. He wasn't losing his nerve-no, not _now-_he had just never been this close to _the _original Genesis projects. Under other circumstances, years ago, he would've been excited and eager. Now, he only felt nauseous, sick with himself and what his life work had amounted to, how his achievements and dreams had been twisted beyond recognition.

Had he known what his research would become, what he would be forced to _do,_ he wouldn't have joined all those years ago. It was never suppose to turn out like this, looking back he could pinpoint the moment everything changed-and the regret that he did nothing to stop it ate away at him, agonizingly slow and torturous. Now he was stuck, waist deep in the lies and ugliness of it all. They had ripped away everything from him, but he wasn't giving up. He would right his wrongs, and fix this whole mess. Even at the cost of his own life-he owed _them _that much.

He peered into the biggest cages in front of him, three indistinct lumps lay motionless in their respective, darkened corners. His heart skipped a beat and for a few horrifying seconds he thought he had gotten his times mixed up, miscalculated somewhere-that he had come too late and they were already _dead_. But then one of the larger forms moved, thin lanky limbs twitched and stirred. He stepped forward, slowly as not to startle them, and wiped the sweat from his brow with a white coat sleeve.

"He-Hello." He offered quietly, gently, not really sure what else to say. He needed to be quick, but handle the situation appropriately and delicately. The figure went rigidly instantly as though Connor had poked them with an electric cattle prod. He stomach clenched as he imagined that was exactly what they were expecting. He moved a little to the side, to let some light shine into the shaded cage, and the figure scrambled back, going as far as the space would allow-inhaling with a sharp hissing sigh that was so much like a cornered, terrified animal, that Conor took a step back.

The child was thin, wiry, and so very pale in the dim lamplight, Conor thought she could easily pass for a ghost. He would bet everything he had she'd never seen natural sunlight, hadn't stepped foot outside a day in her life. Her long brown hair fell over sharp shoulder blades in dead, limp strands. She wore a cream colored hospital type gown, her arms and the backs of her legs covered with spidery white scars, and a rainbow of different sized bruises. Gaunt features, that would've been rosy and full with pretty youth that girls her age should have, but he didn't have to bet to _know _her care had been severely neglected these past years. It was purposefully done, and it made a tiny fire ignite in his heart, slowly burning hotter and brighter-it licked against his ribcage and gave him comforting courage. Dark smudges under her eyes told of the sleepless nights here in holding room 5A-home was far from the appropriate term for such a place-and the unimaginable stress and fear she must experience day to day. Her body pushed to it's limits and beyond by people who did not understand the sanctity of the human mind, and the fragileness of a child's innocence. The fire swelled and crackled in his chest.

_Forty minutes._

He had seen many thing working here, things that would haunt him to the end of his days-possibly soon fast approaching-but her eyes would be the one thing to stick in his mind forever. He did not know true desperate, utter hopelessness and complete suffering until he looked into this girls eyes. Hazel, a deep brown ringed with soft grass green, that gazed back at him with pure contempt and a challenging defiance that surprised him. Her expression was numb and dead, but there was still something inside ready and willing to fight. A huge weight lifted off of Conor's shoulders, hope that maybe they weren't too far gone to save. That _they _hadn't broken them completely after all.

She watched him like a hawk, arms wrapped protectively around her legs, drawn knee high to her chest, and scowled. Her stare was almost smoldering, but Conor forced himself forward again, the importance of his mission giving him just what he needed to gather his wits again. He licked his lips and held his hands out in a nonthreatening, reassuring manner-she bared her teeth.

"It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you, I'm here to _help _you." She didn't respond, just blinked and continued to glare and snarl soundlessly at him.

Then he heard it.

It was weak, brittle wheezing, that rose and fell, and he realized, with a start, that it was _laughter_. Dry and raspy, and void of any humor or emotion other than bitterness. He turned to the cage next to the girls, and had to squint even harder to see into this one. He could make out arms and legs, splayed casually, bonelessly in front of a slumping torso as the young boy lay propped against the bars of his prison. His head lolled to the side, a grimy, tangled mane of dark curls brushed thin shoulders. His only pair of clothes; a dirty pair of tan shorts a size too big, and strips of white cloth wound haphazardly around his wrists. They flaked with dried blood. He had scars too, and the whole right side of his face was a molten mix of blue, purple and red. His eye-the only one visible-was swollen and puffy under his unruly fringe. He sneered at Connor, and it was something you wouldn't normally expect a boy his age to be capable of. The icy hue of his iris was striking, and it pierced through the gloom and into Connor's flesh-he couldn't stop the swift shiver that shot down his back.

The boy's chest heaved noticeable as he drew air into his lungs, inhaling sharply, ribs protruding through paper skin with every breath. He fixed Connor with a look that rooted his feet to the floor and licked his chapped, peeling lips.

"_Help_?...we don't need any more of your _help-_" He cut off with another painful, back bending cough, and sat up a little straighter so the light illuminated the rest of his body. Conner glanced away, a bit of color drained away from his face. A large, puckered scar ran from his eyebrow to the middle of his sunken cheek, white and stark against the darkness. This eye was a deeper, ocean blue, and had just as much fire as the girls. Maybe with a little more danger, a certain edge that made Conor swallow.

"Why?" He jumped at the new voice, obviously worn and rough with un-use and turned back to the girl. She had dropped her arms, and braced them on either side of her body, like she was ready to lunge forward and attack him if she didn't like his answer. He blinked, and the question finally processed in his head, he gripped his folder again and opened his mouth to respond, but the boy cut him off.

"Don't waste...your time on him...just another..._game_." He growled, and shifted away, disgusted, his arms trembled with the strain. Conor quickly shook his head.

"No! I-it's not, I promise. I'm here to help you _escape_." He urged, and waited for the surprised, happy expressions on their faces at the thought of rescue and _freedom_. But they simply stared at him, like he was the experiment in the cage, with big, impassive eyes. The girl shuffled forward on her hands and knees, and gripped the bars, pressing her face against them.

"Es..cape?" She tested the word on her tongue. He nodded.

"Yes, I'm getting you out of here, but we don't have much time, so-"

"There... _is _no _escape!_" The boy barked-Connor jumped-regaining some strength and breath, hate and loathing dripped from his words like poison. The girl glance at her companion, defeat made her whole body sag and she pulled away from the bars back to her corner, glancing at Connor like he was a very disappointing toy she had had high hopes for.

_Thirty minutes._

He was quickly losing control of the situation, and time was no longer on his side. Things were worse than he had originally thought, and pure panic began to inch it's way up his throat. Thick beads of sweat slide down the nape of his neck and he glanced nervously, habitually, behind him. Those doors could open at any minute and everything would be over. He grit his teeth-_think Connor, think._

Then a quiet, whimper from the smallest cage.

The other two children stiffened as he turned towards the sound. He moved forward, intent on investigating the last child and they immediately came to life. Both sprang up-as far as they could in the low ceiling-and grabbed the bars, looking ready to rip them apart if they had too.

"Stay _away _from her." The girl warned, eyes ablaze. The boy had growled deep in his throat and looked murderous. Connor held his hands up again.

"I _told _you, I'm here to _help_."

"Like we can trust..._anything_ you sick freaks say." The boy hissed, and he was right-how many lies had they fallen for in the past-but he could dwell on all that later. At the moment, he was the only person they could trust. Despite their threats he walked up to the last cage and leaned closer.

She could have only been five years old, and he had never seen something so _small _and _beautiful_. Even in the unflattering light, her hair was a fiery blanket that covered her in a curtain of red. She had curled in on her self, a tiny ball in the corner, but now awake, she blinked up at him with fathomless green eyes, and someone grabbed his heart in a vice like grip and _twisted_. Her pale skin was dusted with rusty freckles, her lips pulled in a tiny frown as she brought a hand up to wipe away the sleep from her eyes-and _oh god_, Connor stumbled back. He made a choking sound, and found himself unable to tear his eyes away. It _couldn't _be-

_Twenty minutes._

Yes, things were _much _worse than he had imagined.

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><p>Its funny how something so simple can change your life in the blink of an eye.<p>

You come to find just how fragile your world is, how it was never very stable to begin with. You're so unsuspecting that it catches you completely off guard and you topple over, and that one simple little thing, just one tiny push can send you over the edge. That's all it took to leave you shattered.

Something as simple as a phone call.

Some could say they've left their old life behind them completely, but everyone has baggage, a skeleton shoved to the darkest corner of their closet., never to see the light of day. But no matter how far you run, no matter how hard you try and forget it, the past always has a way of finding you.

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It was Saturday, and I had just taken Bright to soccer practice. The day was slow; it was the weekend after midterms and it felt nice to do nothing for a change. I was in the kitchen making dinner, testing my hand at the culinary arts, when the phone rang. I put down my knife and went to answer it, pressing talk on the third ring.

"Hello."

"Leon?"

I frowned, not recognizing the voice, though it was clear they knew me. The fact that they knew my real name, not the fake ones we had made up for school, had my heart racing and cold chills shooting down my spine. I went through a mental list of who it could be, matching voices to a face-a habit I had formed years ago-I had the voice, but not the face. I tried to keep my tone, and nerves, steady.

"Yes, who is this?"

I wasn't prepared for the next words, how they would ultimately alter my world in every way possible.

"Leon, it's me, Jeb."

Time seemed to stop.

My vision narrowed, tunneled like a telescope. My heart lept into my throat, ice spilled into my veins. My legs wobbled and I gripped the counter for support. Someone had stuck a ball of cotton in my throat, making it hard to swallow.

"Hello? Leon are you there? I need to talk to yo-"

I didn't let him finish, my finger hit the end button before I heard the rest. I gently placed the phone down and clutched the counter with both hands, my vision going in and out of focus. I felt woozy, my hands trembled. Desperately I squashed the rising feeling of a panic attack, and the notion my whole world was falling apart. I forced myself to breathe. My stomach rolled.

_Breathe_-

"Rory!" I yelled, voice cracking.

I waited, heart pounding, as I heard a door down the hall open. Moments later Rory walked into the kitchen, holding his math book, looking annoyed.

"What? I'm trying to-" he stopped mid-step when he saw my face. Having seen that face a million times before, he instantly knew something was wrong. He put his book on the counter and studied me for a moment, features suddenly concerned.

"What's wrong?"

I looked into his mismatched blue eyes, trying to find the words that would best describe 'what was wrong'. Instead I made a choking sound in my throat and sank to the ground, letting my back slide down the wooden island. I cradled my head in my hands and exhaled slowly. Confused and now slightly frightened, Rory lowered himself next to me, resting a hand on my knee.

"Leon, what's wrong?"

Breathe-

"Jeb. It was Jeb on the phone."

My voice sounded miles away, in some distant place where everything made sense. Rory blinked once, twice, then sat down next to me and stared at the wall. We sat in silence for a moment, trying to figure out what to do, say. Finally he spoke.

"Are you OK?" He said, eyes never leaving the wall in front of us. I shook my head and peered at him through my brown hair.

"Are you?"

"No."

"What do we do?"

"I don't know."

"Why the hell is he calling us now?"

"I don't _know_"

Oh _god_, I was going to throw up.

"... Should we tell Bright?"

He looked at me then, a few strands of dark,curly hair covering his piercing eyes.

"She deserves to know" he whispered. I bit my lip.

"But it could be nothing. We shouldn't freak her out over _nothing_-"

" -We said we'd never keep each other in the dark"

I sighed, he was right and I was just being selfish. We sat quietly a little while longer, finding recurrence in each others presence. What felt like hours later, Rory got to his feet and offered me a hand, I took it hesitantly. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and I placed my head against his chest. His hand was warm and comforting as he intertwined it in my hair. I laughed lightly and clenched my fist in his gray shirt.

"What?" He asked.

"There goes our normal life" I said solemnly. He pulled back and looked down at me.

"Why?"

I shrugged.

"I don't know, just this feeling that I have that everything is changing, that from now on things aren't going to be the same, and it scares me. I mean it was nice while it lasted, but who were we kidding, we're mutant freaks playing house. It was bound to fall apart eventually, actually I'm surprised it lasted this long." My words left a bitter taste on my tongue.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting a normal life, we deserve it." Rory said, looking into my eyes.

"Yeah, but we both knew this day was coming. This whole time we've just been naive and stupid."

"No, we've been hopeful and optimistic."

Jeb's phone call, hearing his voice again, unnerved me. I felt jittery and paranoid, like how I use to be when we were first rescued. If he could effect me with just a few words I couldn't imagine what would happen if he showed up. Rory gripped me by the elbows.

"Nothing is going to change, _we_ wont change. Don't worry" He urged. I nodded numbly and stepped back, gently taking my arms from his grip. I turned around and picked up the knife again.

"I need to finish dinner." I said tersely. I could feel his eyes burning into my back, as he watched me to make sure I didn't cut myself or something. I willed my hands to be still and steady as I chopped the carrots. It was only when I heard the shuffling of his footsteps turn and head down the hall that I let myself unravel. My fingers shook and little drops of water splashed onto the carrots in my hands. The initial shock of the whole situation had worn off and was replaced by anger.

How **_dare_ **he!

How Dare he come into our lives again after he abandoned us!

And why? After all this time, why would he choose now to suddenly make a reappearance?

The tears were flowing freely now; I bit my lip to try to keep them at bay. If it was one thing I learned from that traitors jack-ass, it was to never show weakness, not even in the worst of situations.

Because _they_ can use it against you.

But it was one thing I knew for sure;whatever was going to happen next, I wasn't about to let him ruin our lives, not again.

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><p>As I had predicted, Bright didn't take it well at all. She had absorbed the news with a mixed look of aghast shock and utter betrayal, bursted into tears and rushed off to her room for three hours. We finally were able to coax her out with Chinese take out and we all gathered in the living room to discuss what to do.<p>

Bright sat huddled on the couch, a box of spicy beef noodles clutched in her hands as she stared vacantly at the carpet. Her long red hair was splayed out around her shoulders and her green eyes were red and puffy. Rory and I exchanged nervous, worried glances at her as we ate our food. I set my fried rice on the coffee table and cleared my throat.

"Lets get this over with. So we all know Jeb called" I wasn't about to make this worse on us by beating around the bush and act like nothing happened. Bright whimpered and gripped her carton.

"And we need to decide what we're going to do about it." Rory slouched and mumbled under his breathe-

" All in favor of pretending none of this ever happened." Bryce raised her hand half-heartedly. I kicked Rory in the shin and shot him a look saying he wasn't helping. He rolled his eyes and buried his head in his sesame chicken.

" We all know Jebs an asshole who doesn't deserve a moment of our time, but that doesn't erase the fact that he called, and knowing him, he probably has some sleazy, ulterior motive shoved up his lab-coat sleeve." I looked the other members of my family in the face, " Question is, what does that have to do with us." Rory snorted.

"Who cares" I glared at him.

"We should."

"Why? Why should we give a damn about him. Hes the one who left us." He growled. Bryce sniffled.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled slowly. This was harder than I thought it was going to be.

"Lets face it, this is going to change things, we can't just ignore it and no matter how much we don't want it too, our past may finally be catching up with us."

"_**NO**_!"

Bright, having been mute this whole time, shot to her feet; beef noodles tumbling from her lap and spilling on the floor. She looked at me with big watery eyes, glazed with angry and fear. My heart clenched.

"He's _not_ coming back, he's not gonna ruin this! I won't let him!" She shouted, hands balled into fists at her sides. I immediately knelt before her and gently wiped a tear from her cheek.

"I never said he was going to." She shook her head, crimson hair whipping around her head, and took a step back.

"You promised you wouldn't let him come back." She whispered. I looked up into her face and gripped her shoulders.

"And I _won't_"

Her lower lip trembled, something in her eyes flickered then was gone, a quick shift of something behind the green irises. My stomach flipped. Her next words chilled me, stole the air from my lungs like a punch to the gut.

"Why are you _lying_?" she hissed before turning and storming out of the room. The sound of her door slamming shut echoed in the silence she left in her wake. I stayed crouched next to the coffee table, frozen.

"Well that was nicely handled."

Slowly, arms slack, I rose to my feet and went to grab a towel from the kitchen to clean up the noodles. Rory kept his eyes on my face, and if I looked, I could see a glint of contempt in his frosty blue eyes.

"Why _are_ you lying?"

I snapped back to reality, my hand clenched in the towel and I turned my head to meet his gaze.

"Who said I was! At least I didn't want to take the _easy_ way out." I growled, getting to my feet again and throwing the towel on the coffee table. Rory stood up abruptly, bringing us uncomfortably close. I took a step back, the back of my knees hitting the edge of the couch. Ash's eyes were cool and calculating as the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees, his temper flared and I could feel it; goose bumps rippled up my arms. He searched my eyes for a moment, for what, I could only guess, before finally speaking.

"Whats wrong with that? It's something you should be use too." He said through tight lips. Anger boil in my stomach, as the urge to lash out flared red hot in my mind. I gritted my teeth and brushed past him. I hesitated in the doorway, my heart was torn; fight or flight. Here I was, trying to be the leader, but having everything fall apart. A part of me, a part I had hoped to leave behind there, wanted to fight, retaliate and blow up in his face, but the sensible part was telling me to let it go.

_'Why are you lying?'_

A memory fluttered in front of my eyes for a moment.

_A man, middle aged, mustache and glasses, smiled as he placed his hand on the head of a young girl; a girl with unruly, brown hair._

I turned a fraction and looked at him over my shoulder,

"I agree."

Rory had an expression on his face that said he knew what I was talking about, but he wanted to hear me say it.

"To pretend none of this ever happened."

* * *

><p>The next three weeks passed without incident or mention of the phone call, but it took a couple days for the distant, edgy atmosphere to fade. But soon things started to fall back into their normal routine and the whole Jeb thing was swept under the rug and forgotten.<p>

Once or twice I would catch Bright staring at the phone, waiting, and I found my eyes lingering on the black, number sequence inked on my abdomen whenever I took off my shirt to get in the shower or change. Rory would stare longingly out the window whenever a bird would fly by.

We didn't want to admit it, but we were starting to remember; remember everything we had spent the last nine years trying to forget.

* * *

><p>I stared out the window and watched the crisp, autumn breeze blow bronze leaves across the front steps of the school. My mind seemed to naturally, with years of practice, tune out the chatter of my fellow classmates as they milled around me for our study hall period. It was the last week of school and if it was anyone who was most excited about that fact it was me.<p>

Being student council president was cool and all, though my Vice was a total stuck up prick, but it was exhausting. Half of the time I felt like a chicken running around without a head, and the other half I felt like a one-woman army.

I sighed and laid my head down on my arms, closing my eyes for a few minutes of blissful rest, waiting for the Tylenol I took to kick in. Someone bumped into my desk.

"Haha watch it Jeb!"

_Snap_

Like someone pulling a rubber band then letting go, my eyes were open and I was on my feet the next instant. My chair clattering to the floor stopped all sound in the room as everyone turned to look at me; eyes wide, face pale and wild. Only as the silence fully settled over the classroom, did my mind process that the boy had said Jeff not Jeb. My heart hammered in my chest as the panic in my head fizzled away, replaced by mortification.

Laughs and mummers erupted around me as I sheepishly bent over to pick of my chair. My cheeks were warm as I mumbled a quick apology and sat down again. I mentally kicked myself.

_Why the _hell_ would Jeb be at my school?_

I really needed more sleep.

* * *

><p>Game night and I was dominating in Scrabble.<p>

I placed the last letter to 'certaintly' and smirked, tallying up my score and retrieving more tiles from the bag. Rory flopped back, exasperated.

"Remind me again why we play this when we all know you're going to win." He muttered, jamming a hand in the chip bowl then stuffing them in his face. Bright gave him 'you're a pig' look and I shrugged.

"You guys are masochists?"

Rory snorted and waved his hand in a floppy gesture at the three of them huddled on the living room floor.

"I guess so."

I laughed and rolled to my feet to get another root beer when the phone rang. I didn't even think about it, my finger hitting the talk button before my mind could put up its walls.

"Hello?"

"Dont hang up, please."

I wanted to, a voice in the back of my head _screamed_ at me too. It was what he deserved. Instead, I schooled my features, bridled my emotions and slowly set my drink on the counter. I turned to face the living room so Rory and Bright could see my face.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't hang up on your sorry ass" I sneered.

"You and I both know I don't have one."

I didn't even see Rory get up but I shifted and he was there, hovering at my elbow. Bright stood at the edge of the kitchen, hesitating on the threshold, looking lost.

"Yet you're still talking."

" …. I need a favor."

This time I laughed. Rory lifted an eyebrow.

"A favor?! You're _kidding_ right?"

There was silence from the other end as Jeb collected himself.

"I know I haven't done anything to earn your trust-"

"You think?"

"-but I need your help. Can you at least hear me out?"

Something in his voice made me actual think about it. I mean, the almighty Jeb, stooping to our level to ask for help? This had to be good.

I chewed my bottom lip, finger itching to hit the end button. A part of me smirked smugly at the fact that this time, he need our help, but again, two factions clashed in my head as the old me rang the warning bells. I exchanged glances with the other members of my flock, now gathered around me, in a silent conversation. Bright looked ready to cry again but she put on her brave face, her lower lip quivered, and Rory was stoney faced. They didn't speak aloud, their eyes said it all: 'It's your call'

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

_Please dont let me regret this._

"I'm listening"

**.**

**.**

**.**


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